Unsung
by Shipperwolf
Summary: Maybe he realized what he was possibly saving her from. Maybe he didn't. But it would literally take the end of the world for her to get the chance to thank him. A brief, pre-series Caryl meeting. Oneshot, prompt response!


**Hey guys!**

**Here's a little prompt response for user _niallhoransbabe _on tumblr; I'm QUITE sure this has been done before, but here's my take on the possibility.**

**Hope ya'll enjoy; remember, I own nothing!**

* * *

There was one good liquor store in the little Georgia town they lived in, and much to her dismay, the owner of the place had her pegged as a regular.

When Sophia had first been born, Ed went out to get his _own_ beer and whiskey.

Not anymore.

Carol pulled into the tiny parking lot, eyes scanning the crowded, cramped surroundings with a sigh. It was dead winter. The peak of hunting season.

And the wilderness surrounding their hometown was ripe with independent hunting clubs; Carol had long gotten used to the growing number of strangers that she'd run into during this time of year, from the drunken old men in the liquor store to the large groups of camo-clad young'uns rolling in their pick-up trucks down the main street.

Wrapping her shawl around her shoulders she hurried to get inside, get what she needed, and get out, as quickly as possible.

Sophia would be getting out of school soon, and she knew Ed wouldn't bother to remember what time school _let out_, much less bother to go pick her up.

The little bell on the door _dinged_ as she came in, and Charlie, the scruffy-but-polite owner waved from his place behind the counter,

"Hey there, Carol! Ya lookin' mighty frigid today!"

She smiled at the man's friendly greeting, but only nodded swiftly in response before turning away and heading towards the coolers.

She didn't want Charlie to see the blue bruise on her cheek from that far away, and possibly bring everyone's attention to it.

Several men, covered head-to-toe in brown and green camo brushed past her quietly as she made her way down the aisles to the cold storage in back, and she kept her head ducked away from them all, mumbling small "'Scuse me"s when she'd bump against someone accidentally.

Her jaw ached a bit from the last slap Ed had given her, and she instinctively opened and closed it, gauging the pain. A tear threatened to slip from her eye at the memory of the drunken altercation, but she swallowed hard, breathed deep, and imagined the smiling face of her daughter waving her way from the school entrance.

Carol looked up to find herself standing in front of the large coolers, all halfway stocked with various brands of beer.

Her eyes immediately darted toward what she knew was Ed's brand, only to find a man bending down, reaching in, and pulling out the last box.

She stilled. Frowned.

Stared at the younger man as he straightened, slamming the cooler door shut with a swift knee. As he turned toward her Carol completely forgot to step back and give him room, and he came close to shoving into her.

"Shit." He cursed and jerked back, a scowl on his lips.

"Watch it there, lady."

She looked up to meet his eyes, and saw them crease back down at her.

The man looked to be a few years younger than her, sandy-blonde hair mixing with a darker brown that threatened to develop into prickle on his face. Camo pants and a torn beige shirt were covered in dirt and a bit of dried blood, which she assumed had once belonged to a deer.

His breath smelled slightly of alcohol. Her nose twitched at it.

Instead of moving out of his way Carol simply stood dumbly, eyes darting over the man before landing on the box tucked under his arm.

She frowned again.

Imagined the searing pain of another backhand that night.

She stepped back, looked down one of the aisles at the front counter,

"Charlie…ah…you have any more of these Bud Lites?"

Charlie leaned forward over the counter, peering down the store at her. He shook his head and shrugged,

"Nah, darlin'. All's I got is what you see there. Expectin' another shipment first thing in the mornin' though, if you wanna come by."

She swallowed again. Nodded to herself before looking back at the counter and attempting a smile.

"Sure. I'll just come back—"

She jumped when something hard nearly slammed into her chest, and out of instinct she reached out to grasp at it, the weight registering in her mind before she even looked down.

The blue and grey of the 12-pack in her hands met her eyes and for a brief moment, she was very confused.

And then she looked up to find the blood-stained hunter just in front of her, an annoyed, almost angry look on his face.

"Take the damn thing. Lite sucks ass, anyway."

Carol barely heard him as he seemed to grumble down at her, his blue-green eyes hovering away from her face a moment before finally settling and narrowing darkly, and she knew he wasn't looking at her eyes.

His lips drew tight and then twisted and he almost looked to be snarling before he stepped to the side and moved forward to brush past her,

"Looks like you need it a hell of a lot more'n I do."

The man disappeared down an aisle before she could form a proper "thank you", and by the time she made her way back to the counter to pay for the beer, he was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

It took her a moment to remember where she'd seen him.

Carol froze when she first saw the brothers enter the quarry, eyes landing on the younger of the two and her mind scrambled to find the connection that told her she'd met him somewhere before.

It had been….a year? Two?

Hunting season.

The last case of the Bud Lite.

Carol watched the man she would come to know as "Daryl Dixon" as he trudged into the camp, that familiar scowl planted on his face. Beside her, Sophia reached out grip her arm, leaning into her side tiredly.

As she absently stroked her daughter's hair she felt the eyes of her husband on her back, and closed her own to block out the creeping dread in her chest.

When she opened them, the younger Dixon was looking at her from across the camp.

His eyes squinted a moment before darting to Sophia, and then very quickly past her, to Ed.

When they briefly landed back on her face, Carol met them deliberately.

And finally smiled her thanks.


End file.
